


The History of Us

by notherhappyending



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Death, F/F, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Immortal, Stark family Christmas, college party, curse, teaching assistant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notherhappyending/pseuds/notherhappyending
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery and Sansa suffer from an ill-fated, but good intentioned, spell-turned-curse which leaves Margaery immortal and subject to experiencing betrayal over and over again from reincarnated versions of Sansa who does not remember her. (Inspired by Shura's <i>Touch</i>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sansa I: A Love Spell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mautadite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/gifts).



> The first chapter (Sansa's pieces) are set in Westeros and the second (Margaery) is in modern day Seattle. (The implication being that Westeros was centuries before the modern day civilization but geographically on our Earth. In the second part, some characters have modernized names. Others do not. (Sansa = Laura, Riley = Rickon, Theo = Theon, Yara = Asha, Ash/Ashley = Arya, John = Jon, Jane = Jeyne.) Huge thanks to sunkelles for being a fantastic beta. 
> 
> Written for and originally posted for the Game of Thrones exchange. 
> 
> _I'm uploading the first part now, but due to being on vacation and the pains of fixing my formatting, I'll put the rest up soon._
> 
> **Given that this is a story about reincarnation, there is character death and mention of it.**

“Do you like it?” Margaery asks, coy smile playing on her lips.

“I love it.” Sansa gushes, shaking her wrist where the new silver bracelet with light green gems jingles softly.

“I wanted you to have something nice for your name day.”

“It’s perfect.”

Sansa moves in to kiss Margaery, revelling in the sound of the new jewelry on her wrist.

“But, the second part of my gift to you is this.” Margaery waves a hand past their picnic basket to gesture at where candles, flowers, and an old book lay in wait.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Sansa asks, eyes wide with excitement.

“Only one way to find out.” Margaery walks around Sansa, dropping a handful of rose petals behind her to create a circle around them.

“I hope it does.” Sansa smiles bashfully.

“As do I.” Margaery reaches out to squeeze Sansa’s hand in comfort.

Sansa watches the Tyrell girl move purposefully around the garden, selecting the right flowers and interacting with the pond in measured movements. Even though the spell is something Sansa discovered in an old book of fairytales, her love is doing everything she can to play along. Her sister Arya would say that dabbling in magic was stupid, but Sansa cannot help but see the romance of it. This is especially true when she watches Margaery play the role of sorceress as though she was born for it. Her focused smile and careful movements are the real magic.

“Okay, now hold my hands.” Margaery commands, finally stopping in the centre of the circle where a bed of soaking flora and fauna lie in an arrangement.

“Like this?”

“Like this.” Margaery interlaces her fingers into Sansa’s.

Sansa’s breath catches in the back of her throat. This handholding is surprisingly intimate. She cannot tell if it is the warm comfort of Margaery’s soft hands or the sparkle in her eyes, but it is everything that Sansa wants. This might not be the fairytale love between a knight and a princess, but it is something better. Margaery is real.

“Shall we do this?” Margaery winks.

“Yes!”

Though it is just playing pretend, Sansa is pleased that Margaery is playing along. Jeyne always asked too many questions, but her new companion is happy to improvise with Sansa’s fantasies. For a second, Sansa thinks that she could die of happiness. Then, she shakes her head, thinking about death when holding holds with a beautiful girl is plain silliness.

Margaery closes her eyes and begins to recite the chant that Sansa showed her the day that she found the spell. Sansa squeezes her hands and shuts her own eyes, focusing on the soft lilt of her lover’s voice. Each word, in some language that Sansa cannot recognize, sounds perfectly natural as it falls from Margaery’s lips.

When she falls silent, Sansa opens her eyes eagerly in the hope of a kiss. Instead, she sees Margaery frozen still, eyes open and pointed at the sky. She waits a second or two, waiting for the other girl to break the spell of playing pretend. When she doesn’t, Sansa frowns.

“Margaery?” She asks, voice small. “Stop it. You’re scaring me.”

“Uhhhh.” Margaery intonates.

Sansa takes a step backward over the rose circle. As she crosses this, Margaery’s head falls down suddenly to a slump. Then, she slowly raises her eyes to meet Sansa.

“Sansa.” She is breathless. “I think it worked.”

“Really?” Sansa frowns.

“Yes.” Margaery nods, eyes sparkling with excitement. “It did. We’ll be together forever.

“Thank you.”

Sansa pulls Margaery into a long and passionate kiss. Though she knows that this whole ceremony was a game for her benefit, everything feels right. For the first time since she left Winterfell, Sansa has hope for the future. No spell can keep Margaery and her together, but perhaps their love is enough to work like a charm.


	2. Sansa II: Lovers Reunited

When Sansa sees the woman on the Iron Throne, for what is the first time in years, she feels her breath catch in her throat. It is sudden sensation of longing and nostalgia that overtakes her. She has to take a moment to stand still, just to remember how to breath and blink like normal. A knight of the Queensguard has to gently prod her forward, as if to remind her how to walk. Looking ahead, Sansa cannot help but notice that the woman on the Iron Throne is more gorgeous than she recalls.

Sitting upon the Iron Throne more effortlessly than her husbands ever did, Margaery Tyrell commands the love and attention of all those around her. Each syllable that drops from her lips earns eager nods and laughter from her subjects. She wears a slim golden crown similar to the one of her youth, though this one is adorned with glittering green stones. Her deep brown eyes are alive as she recounts a story to her audience. Sansa cannot make out particular words, but the prosody of her voice brings back fond memories of cool evenings in the gardens and the odd stolen kisses between young maidens. It feels like a lifetime ago but somehow she can still recall the exact smell of the roses as the breeze blessed her blushing face. In those days, Margaery was on her side.

“Your grace.” The guard to Sansa’s left calls out.

Margaery snaps out of her revelry, adopting a more demure manner, and looks forward. Though it takes her a moment to realize the woman in front of her, Sansa can feel the moment of recognition as it occurs. If she did not once know the Tyrell girl well, she would have missed the very slight facial cues interrupting cool regality that give Margaery away.

She recognizes me. Sansa reflects upon the subtle clue. _It’s not a happy recognition though. She looks sad._

“Sansa Stark.” Margaery declares in an authoritative tone.

“Margaery-“ Sansa starts. The sound of her name on Margaery’s lips is so familiar.

“What the Stark girl means to say is _your grace_.” The guard clarifies, elbowing Sansa in the shoulder.

“Yes.” Sansa feels her face turn red. “That’s what I meant, your grace.”

“Of course.”

Margaery twirls a lock of hair as she watches Sansa drop to her knees in an exaggerated show of fealty.

“Your grace.” She tries again, looking up into the same brown eyes that she once spent hours lost in. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry.” Margaery laughes. “You’re sorry?”

“I am.” Sansa tries again, shame creeping into her face. “You know me. You know I am.”

“I don’t know you, Sansa.” Margaery pronounces coldly. “Not anymore.”

“Margaery!” Sansa cries.

“This is not a conversation to have here.” Margaery looks away for a second, composing herself. “Guard, find her a room.”

“Do you mean a prison cell?” The Queensguard asks.

“No.” Margaery shakes her head. “While some of us do not honour bond forged in youth, the proper thing to treat them with respect. Find her an empty room.”

“Yes, your grace.”

As Sansa is led away, she feels the sharp edge of Margaery’s words. Though they sting, Sansa knows that they are warranted. She betrayed her love in the worst way. It had been an accident, but what did that really forgive? When it comes to the death of kin, mistakes are as good as intent.


	3. Sansa III: The First End

Sansa is sitting on the windowsill, looking out over King’s Landing, when Margaery finally comes to pay her a visit. The sound of the heavy wooden door opening steals Sansa away from her reflective thoughts. She is thankful for the distraction as this place stirs uneasy memories of her childhood and the pains she suffered at the hands of the Lannisters. Things would be much different if the childish spell had worked. She once wished for a lifetime with Margaery, she sadly recalls. What if?

“Sansa.”

“Your gra-“

“Margaery.” She corrects, placing a jug of wine and two goblets on a table. “You might as well call me Margaery.”

“Margaery.” The name rolls over Sansa’s lips less smoothly than before. “Please, can you ever forgive me?”

Margaery busies herself with pouring the wine, frowning silently in response to the question. When she has completed the task, she places the jug down and looks up. Meeting Sansa’s eyes, she shakes her head sadly.

“Please.” Sansa begs, voice becoming smaller. “Please, Margaery. You know… you know I love you.”

“I know.” Margaery passes her a goblet. “I love you too, Sansa. I can’t help that. I never could.”

“Then we could still be together, right?” Sansa pleads, eyes watering.

“I can’t.” Margaery looks away, seemingly in pain.

“Why not?” Sansa realizes the ignorance of her question as soon as she says it.

“Why not?” Margaery laughs bitterly. “You do remember my brother, right? Ser Loras?”

“Of- of course. But-“

“He was my brother, Sansa.”

“I understand-“

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“I’ve lost family too.” Sansa tries to empathize. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss Robb.”

“That is not the same and you know it.” Margaery straightens up as she glares at Sansa.

“No, I know. That’s why I’m asking- begging for your forgiveness.”

“Would you easily forgive Walder Frey for Robb’s death? Or your lady mother’s?”

Sansa remains quiet at this, realizing that her error in trying to relate the two. She guilty takes a sip of wine. She wants to run over and pull Margaery into an embrace. If she could do this, she could ease the tension between them with careful kisses. Why, after all this time, is she so in love with Margaery? Sansa knows she’s out of her mind, but she longs to touch Margaery, but there’s too much history.

“I just want to know why.” Margaery finally breaks the silence.

“I didn’t mean to.” A single tear rolls down her cheek. “I didn’t want Loras to die.”

“And yet, it was your word as Queen in the North that lead to his execution.”

“I didn’t know it was Loras.” She insists. “They brought me a cloaked figure and told me that he had committed treason against us.”

“Loras was my sworn sword. He was a knight of the Queensguard of the very same kingdom that forged a bond of peace with the North.”

“I know.”

“You killed my brother and jeopardized the stability of the kingdoms as a mistake.” Margaery reiterates, blinking quickly in confusion.

“Please forgive me.” Sansa begs. “I didn’t mean to. I am so, so sorry.”

“You know, Sansa?” Margaery smiles sadly. “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?” Sansa asks, cautiously.

Margaery walks over to her and takes the goblet from her hand. As she sets it down on the table, Sansa realizes that she feels lightheaded. It is not the pleasant buzz of alcohol, but instead a sleepy ethereal feeling. Her legs fold under her before she realizes what is happening and Margaery has returned to catch her collapsing body.

“Wha-“

“Shh.” Margaery places a finger to Sansa’s lips. “Don’t fight it, my dear Sansa.”

Panic flashes through Sansa’s mind, but she does not know how to harness it to save herself. The weight of her eyelids is increasing. Margaery brushes her hair to the side and cradles Sansa in her arms. The last things she feels are the familiar warmth of Margaery’s embrace and the light kiss on her forehead. Just before she slips away, she hears Margaery’s voice as she slips the bracelet she once gave Sansa off her wrist.

“You were supposed to be my forever, Sansa.”


	4. Margaery I: The Fate in the Cards

_Breathe deep. Focus on the question at hand. Deal the spread._

A card falls to the ground. Margaery swears loudly, immediately mentally apologizing to the cards for interrupting the ceremony, and reaches down to collect it. It is caught between the table leg and the chair; it is neither upright nor reversed. When she realizes which card it is, she brings her face to her hands.

The Ten of Swords. When upright, it denotes back-stabbings and betrayals. When reversed, it means regeneration and inevitable endings. Either way, the omen is clear. Soon, she will meet Sansa again. At one point in her life, she looked forward to this. The first few times were fraught with the complicated emotions of love and a second chance. Those times, she rushed into Sansa’s arms without a second thought. Now, she has relived it too many times.

Sansa always betrays her. It ends the same way, no matter what Margaery does. The worst part is that Sansa always loves Margaery too deeply. Her betrayals are always devastating but never completely her fault. It is exhausting to have spent hundreds of years trying to hate someone who is never fully to blame for her worst actions.

Margaery puts her tarot cards aside and frowns. She was not prepared to meet Sansa so soon in this life. It seems like just yesterday that she had said goodbye to her last iteration. Margaery had actually fallen into a routine this time that she enjoyed. There were these small moments of happiness, breaths of fresh air, in the never-ending cycle. She had settled into an education at a decent university and was pursuing studies.

If Sansa was about to reenter her life, she knew that her time here was ending. It would be time, soon enough, for her to pack up and relocate. A warm locale would be next, she decided. The northwest was too dreary for someone raised in Highgarden. The thought of this brings Margaery the uncomfortable, yet pleasing, thought of Sansa in one of the tiny swimming costumes that women these days wore. Their brief happiness would probably be spent lounging on the beach, sipping fancy cocktails in the day and skinny-dipping under the moon.

She immediately chastises herself for entertaining these thoughts. After all this time, she should not look forward to seeing Sansa again. Each time, the girl destroys her. Every time, it cuts deeper. Yet, it is her curse to continually fall for her. There is no resistance that will stop the inevitable. She twists the bracelet on her wrist, silver with light green stones, as she thinks about this.

That one day, the one she has regretted for centuries, she made a deal with a higher power. In the gardens, she invoked something larger than anything she could bargain with. Sansa had thought that she was playing along, but something had happened after Margaery recited the words. A voice came to her, asking if she was sure she wanted her wish to be granted. Intoxicated on young love and naivety, Margaery had said yes. When she tied her soul to Sansa’s, she had not anticipated that it would be a curse instead of a blessing.

The sudden chiming of her phone interrupts Margaery’s thoughts. Fuck, she thinks. If she doesn’t leave in the next two minutes, she will miss her opportunity to grab coffee before class starts. The beginning of a new semester is a poor time to be late. Even though her gut tells her that the cycle is about to begin again, she has more important things to think about. Coffee is the priority.


	5. Margaery II: Laura

She taps her fingers impatiently on the counter as the barista engages in hearty conversation with a coworker about the Seattle weather. Margaery has to bite her tongue to refrain from making a snide comment about how unremarkable the weather is. Rain is pretty much the norm in Seattle. Margaery has lived through enough lifetimes to know that humans will talk about weather regardless of how mundane it is. In fact, she swears that she hears more about the rain here than she heard about the plague when she was living in England in the 1300s. The Sansa of that time had betrayed her by selling her jewels, the last remnants of the forgotten Tyrell dynasty, for passage out of England. She had earnestly wanted to escape the plague, to be with Margaery, but it caught her anyhow. Margaery can still remember holding the dying woman in her arms, hardly recognizable from the disease. In that moment she felt complicated love and equally complicated hate. Sansa never means to hurt Margaery, but, every time, she cuts a little deeper. It is much too early to think about her history though. She needs her triple shot Americano and the patience to make it through another day.

“Here.” A female voice breaks Margaery’s deep thoughts. “Your triple shot Americano. I’m so sorry about the wait. I’m new here.”

“Don’t-“ Margaery looks up suddenly. “Oh, _fuck_.”

“What? I… I’m sorry” The girl smiles delicately as she stumbles across her apology. Red crosses her face in a hue that almost matches the colour of her hair.

“I- shit.”

Margaery looks around the coffee shop uncomfortably. She would recognize the eyes anywhere. Even though she has died and been reborn so many times, the Tully blue is still there. It is as beautiful, captivating even, as it was in Sansa’s first life.

“Please forgive me.”

That line is one that Margaery has heard over and over throughout centuries. It is the same thing that Sansa always begs of her in the end. Margaery curses her inability to pull her eyes away. She does not just see the awkward girl in front of her. She sees a lifetime of love and heartbreak, the unbreakable cycle.

Sansa holds out the drink to her and Margaery reaches for it, keeping her distrusting gaze fixed on this new iteration. She knows that she will inevitably fall for her, but she still hopes that this time will be different. As their hands brush, Margaery feels the electricity, the magic, that has always existed between them. Sansa’s hands linger there for a second too long. Though she never consciously recognizes Margaery, the spirit of muscle memory always persists.

“I-“ Sansa is blushing as she pulls away. “I’m sorry. That was unprofessional. I… I just feel like I know you. Or that I… I want to know you? I’m so sorry. I ramble when I get nervous and you’re… well, you’re really pretty.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Margaery takes a sip of the coffee nervously.

“My name is Laura.” The girl smiles. “I would love to get you coffee sometime. I mean, not here. I mean, when I’m not working here. Like, a date.”

“I’m late for class.” Margaery manages, turning quickly to leave the red-faced girl.

She can feel how she is crushing Sansa’s heart and, though it should be easy by now, it still puts her in a foul mood. Though Sansa might have done enough in the past to warrant a cold rejection, Laura has no recollection of their complicated history.

Margaery walks through the rain, not bothering with an umbrella, cursing under her breath. Every iteration is smarter. Each reincarnation finds new ways to get under her skin. Laura. Her name in this life is Laura. Fate has a sick sense of humour. Of course this Sansa is named Laura. What better way to remind Margaery of her curse by naming her undoing something reminiscent of her brother’s name?


	6. Margaery III: The First Day

After a relatively uneventful morning filled with the standard “getting to know you” conversations and general syllabus outline covered in her graduate seminar, Margaery is ready for the excitement of an afternoon wrangling up first year students and trying to explain the nuances of English literature to them.

She arrives at the classroom fifteen minutes before the start of her tutorial and leans against the wall, flipping through her copy of _Brave New World_ in preparation. She is not exactly nervous, though she feels as though she could have done without the third cup of coffee.

“Hi.”

A soft voice interrupts Margaery’s purposeful, yet aimless, page turning. When she looks up, she promptly drops her tattered copy of the novel. The girl standing before her in the hallway is the girl from the coffee shop. It’s Sansa.

“Here, let me help you.”

“Oh.” Margaery feels the heat rush to her face. “No, I’ve got it.”

Sansa bends down to grab the book too and their hands brush. Margaery pulls back immediately, unintentionally yanking _Brave New World_ from Sansa.

“Sorry?” Sansa frowns.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Margaery looks away. She can feel her heart beating furiously in her chest. Sansa has that damn look on face that kills Margaery’s resolve. Even though she does not know what effect she has, the Stark girl is making the same innocent face she always does. It’s that “I-just-wanted-to-help-you” expression that makes it impossible to fully hate her.

“I’m sorry about this morning.” Sansa continues. “I totally didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I mean you probably have a boyfriend or something and that was really weird of me…”

“Kind of.” Margaery frowns.

As she watches Sansa’s face fall, she wants to say something else to comfort her. It seems needlessly cruel to let her assume this, but it is probably a kindness to let her down like this.

“So, uh… are you taking English 101 too?” Sansa asks, bashfully trying to cover embarrassment.

“Not exactly.” Margaery replies as her heart sinks further.

“Oh no.” Sansa’s eyes widen. “You aren’t? Oh my god. Don’t tell me…”

“I’m the teaching assistant.”

The awkward exchange is interrupted by the previous class, emptying out into the hallway. Margaery is thankful for this, feeling the discomfort of being so close to Sansa. She had hoped to avoid her for longer, but fate always had a funny way of forcing them together. _The semester only has thirteen weeks_ , she thinks to herself as she enters the classroom and sets about writing her name across the board.

“My name is Margaery.” She addresses the room of twenty or so young adults, a mixture of super intent students with pens moving across paper already and others with bored expressions and no visible school supplies. Sansa, of course, was of the first type.

Margaery hands out a stack of paper outlining the tutorial marking scheme and expectations. As the students pass this around, she notices that Sansa already has a hand up.

“San-“ She starts to call upon her, before realizing that the name is wrong.

“Laura.” Sansa corrects with a helpful, yet smug smile. “Laura Stark. And I just wanted to say that I love your name. It’s very pretty, regal almost. What’s its etymology?”

“Thank you, Laura.” Margaery replies shortly. “But that’s hardly relevant to post modern literature.”

“Sorry.” Sansa looks down at her notebook before giving a shy, embarrassed, smile that physically hurts Margaery.

“Now, has anyone here read _Brave New World_ before?”


	7. Margaery IV: The Fake Girlfriend

September comes and goes quickly. Margaery falls into the routine of attending and teaching classes. She comes to know her students and even begins to enjoy the disjointed conversations that they have about the course material. If not for the constant presence of Sansa in her tutorial, reminding her of their mutual past, she might even say that she was almost happy.

She even, against her better judgment, lets one of her fellow graduate students convince her to attend a campus LGBT pub night. It’s late October and she knows that she could use a good night of drunken fun. The girl, Yara, is someone that Margaery knows that she has met before. For some reason, she seems to run into reincarnated versions of many from her original life. It is as though they are reincarnated on similar cycles to Sansa and centered around whichever locale Margaery and Sansa are in. Her theory is that her immortal memory allows her to recognize them. Yara, the English graduate student, is quite clearly an iteration of Asha Greyjoy. Though her old Queensguard knight does not recognize her from that lifetime, she makes a fantastic friend to knock back craft beer with on the weekend.

“I’m going home with someone.” Yara states, slamming her empty glass to the table confidently.

“That’s no shock.” Margaery laughs.

“You should try it sometime.” Yara rolls her eyes. “Everyone needs a good fuck every now and then.”

“Speak for yourself.” Margaery laughs.

“I swear Margaery, it’s like you aren’t even really into girls.”

“You’re just mad that I won’t sleep with you.”

“That’s not…” Yara raises her empty glass in an attempt to drink. “Well, okay, that might be true.”

As Margaery waves to the waitress to get another round, she notices a familiar red-haired girl sitting at a table at the other end of the pub.

“Oh, fuck.” She mutters, hoping that Sansa has not seen her.

“What?” Yara raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t look now, but-“

As soon as Margaery says this, Yara disregards her and turns around in an overtly obvious manner. Sansa looks up as she does this and notices Margaery. Her eyes widen in shock, the implications of this very clear.

“I said don’t look.” Margaery glares.

“I don’t take orders well.” Yara shrugs. “So, tell me, who is that hot little thing?”

“Don’t. She’s my student.”

“Oh, damn.” Yara laughs. “Talk about forbidden love.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Your face says otherwise. I’ve never seen you so concerned about a girl.”

“First, it’s inappropriate because she’s my student. Second, it would never work.”

“Well-“

“Oh hell.” Margaery gasps. “She’s headed over here. Oh fuck.”

“Stop being a spaz.”

“You don’t understand, Yara.” Margaery pleads. “Please, do something.”

“Like what?” Yara smirks. “Tell her she can’t sit with us? Are you sure she’s the first year here?”

“Pretend to be my girlfriend. Quick.”

“Serious?”

“Please?”

“If you insist.”

Yara slides her arm across the table to grab Margaery’s hand. Margaery glances up to make eye contact with Sansa, only meters away. Sansa waves tentatively, a confused expression on her face.

“Margaery.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were…”

“Oh my god.” Yara interrupts, laughing. “Does the poor girl think that you’re straight?”

“Yara.” Margaery hisses.

“Who are you?”

“Of course, Margaery didn’t mention me. How rude.”

“Laura, this is… my girlfriend, Yara.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Yara preens, getting into her role. “You have to join us for a drink.”

“I… I can’t.” Sansa’s face looks to be bright red, though the dim lighting of the venue makes it hard to know for sure. “I have… I have a paper to write.”

“Are you sure?” Yara asks, ignoring the pointed look that Margaery throws her way and instead moving across the table to give her friend an exaggerated kiss.

Sansa turns quickly after this and rushes off. Yara breaks into a bout of laughter.

“Was the hand on my leg really necessary?”

“Hey.” Yara snaps. “I don’t half-ass anything.”

“And the kiss? Really, Yara.”

“That was all for me.” Yara winks. “Call it the cost of me playing along.”

“Ugh.” Margaery groans. “I could have bought you a drink instead.”

“You’ll do that anyway. But, that poor girl. She seemed devastated.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know other things we can do.”

“In your dreams, Yara.”


	8. Margaery V: The Confrontation

“Today we’re moving on to _1984_.”

Margaery writes the name of the novel and the author on the board. She notices, with some amount of relief, that Sansa’s chair is empty. After the awkward scene at the pub, she is not ready to face her pupil yet. The afternoon class passes quickly and Margaery returns to her office with a smile on her face. Yara has invited her out to a pub trivia night and she is inclined to concede.

“Margaery.” Sansa catches her as she is jiggling her key in the door to her office.

“Laura.” She replies, uncomfortably, as the door swings open.

“Do you have a moment?”

“Not really.” Margaery glances around awkwardly. “I have somewhere to be really quick.”

Sansa ignores this, following her into the office with a determined look on her face. She slams the office door purposefully. Margaery can see the way that Sansa is working to be brave. Underneath this showy anger, she can see the fragile edges of lifetimes of hurt.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t think we do, Sa- Laura.”

“See, you can’t even remember my name.”

“It’s complicated.” Margaery places her coffee cup down and looks up at Sansa. “But, you’re a good student and I have no complaints. I really don’t know why you’re here.”

“You treat me differently.” Sansa crosses her arms. “You’re kind and helpful to the other students but when I have a comment or question, you seem to barely hear me or make it seem trivial.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“I just want to know why.” Sansa’s eyes have the watery quality that Margaery knows to signal tears. “And, I want to know why you lied to me.”

“About what?” Margaery asks, taken aback.

“Yara isn’t your girlfriend.”

“How could you possibly know that?” As she says this, Margaery realizes that she should have refuted this.

“Yara slept with my roommate that night.” Sansa says, voice trembling. “I woke up and saw her… breasts.”

“Oh.”

Margaery frowns. _I’m going to kill Yara_. 

“Please, Margaery.” Sansa continues. “I’m not a child. I know there is something between us. Please, tell me you feel it too.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” Sansa presses. “You can’t feel it? Or you can’t admit it?”

“Sansa-“

“Laura.” Sansa clenches her teeth.

“Laura.” Margaery repeats, softly. “You remind me of a girl who I once loved who broke my heart.”

“I’m not her.”

“I…” Margaery pauses. “You’re my student. I’m sorry but this is an inappropriate conversation. I need to ask you to leave. I’m going to talk to the professor on Monday about having you switched to a different tutorial.”

“No.” Sansa whispers. “Please. Tell me you don’t feel it and I’ll go.”

“I…” Margaery presses her lips together. The pain in Sansa’s eyes is too real. But, she knows that she needs to walk away now. This time, she won’t let Sansa in.

“Margaery?” Sansa pleads.

“I don’t feel it, Laura.” Margaery looks away as she says this. “Now please, I have marking to do.”

Margaery waits until she hears Sansa retreat from the room before collapsing onto the floor. All the emotions, the ones that she has felt for Sansa since the beginning, overwhelm her. She cannot stop the shaking or the tears for some time. The sun has set before she manages to pull herself together enough to head home. She will not join Yara tonight. Instead, she opens a bottle of red wine and takes it all down.


	9. Margaery VI: The Coffee Shop, Revisited

Margaery awakes early on a Tuesday in mid-November to see a text from Yara. It reads _i’m never drinking again. bring coffee to seminar._ She sighs and puts the phone down. Yara can get her own coffee. If she wants to get wasted on a Monday, she should deal with the consequences.

As soon as she gets out of the shower, her phone chimes again. Impulsively, she reaches for it, water dripping from her body onto the floor and her discarded pajamas. The message is, once again from Yara. do i have to remind you that you owe me. 

_Damn, Yara._ Margaery texts back furiously. _This is the last time._

_you know you’re my fav <3_

Glancing at the clock, Margaery realizes that if she moves quickly, she can get to the campus coffee shop before Sansa starts her shift. Yara had been easily convinced to play detective and stake out the coffee shop to figure out the redhead’s schedule. Since having Sansa switched out of her tutorial, she only sees her across the room in the lecture hall. Even then, she works hard to maneuver the lecture hall in a way where she never has to be too close to Sansa.

She had thought that avoiding Sansa would be simpler than this. _Perhaps,_ she thinks, _I should just give in and let fate run its course._ She hates that her heart rises at the thought of giving in to Sansa. Despite all the heartbreak, she still loves her. Feeling her resolve beginning to crumble reminds her that she needs to stay strong. Thing are better for her in this life. She has Yara and is actually enjoying her time at the university. Though her heart longs for Sansa, she knows that she could be almost happy here. Giving in to Sansa would cause everything to shatter, once again.

Just as she shifts her mind from Sansa to thinking about her coffee order, she notices the familiar face behind the counter. _Shit._

“May I take your order?” A pained bitterness is in her voice.

“Americano and a pumpkin flavoured latte.”

“Size?”

“Oh, uh, whatever.”

“So, medium?” Sansa asks, frustrated.

“Sure.”

Margaery pays and moves over to wait for the drinks. She blames Yara for this. It is possible that Sansa is just covering a shift or something, but it’s easier to direct her frustration at someone else. She watches as Sansa quickly pulls a coworker aside. She whispers something and the woman glances up, not in a subtle manner, to look at Margaery.

Then, the woman trades places with Sansa and starts making Margaery’s drinks. She suddenly feels self-conscious as she realizes that Sansa does not want to talk to her either. This should make things easier and be a generally good thing, but it really does not feel that way. How can Sansa be the one to not want to see her? Margaery knows that she broke the girl’s heart, but she has never had Sansa avoid her like this.

No. Sansa’s coworker glares as she passes the drinks to Margaery. _No, I can’t let her bait my interest like this. If I start thinking about her ignoring me, it’s a slippery slope to falling for her again._

As she leaves the coffee shop, she suddenly misses Sansa. Not just the original Sansa, but all the other incarnations of her that have been slightly different but still the same in essence. Before they betray her, they always make her incredibly happy. She touches the bracelet on her wrist gently, trying to push thoughts of Sansa from her mind as she heads to class. The bracelet jingles lightly as she lets her wrist fall, a light reminder of how it sounded on Sansa’s wrists as she pulled her in for a kiss on her name day or when she collapsed from the poison.


	10. Margaery VII: Kegs and Beer Pong

“Damn, girl.” Yara whistles from where she is leaning casually against the outside of the house. “You didn’t tell me you were going for sexy.”

Margaery rolls her eyes as she fixes her black dress. She does like the way the neckline shows a nice amount of cleavage. It is not too much to be trashy, but definitely fits with the modern concept of attractiveness. Yara, on the other hand, is wearing dark blue jeans with a grey tank top layered over a black one.

When they enter the house together, they see that the party has already started. Margaery takes their coats to find the bedroom designated for the obligatory coat pile while Yara volunteers to forage for cheap beer and scope out the partygoers. As soon as she has declared her intention to check out the other guests, Yara disappears. Margaery sighs, and hugs the coats to her as she picks her way to where the person who greeted them pointed.

At the end of the hallway, she sees an open door with a few jackets and a scarf spilling out. She gingerly picks up the discarded garments to throw them, with her own coats, onto the bed. It is only then, as she turns to leave, that she sees the other person on the room.

Sansa sits, legs crossed, on a swivel chair with a phone pressed to her ear and a red solo cup in one hand. Now, she notices Margaery as well. She murmurs a quick salutation to the person on the other end of the phone call and drops the cellular device quickly.

“Margaery.” She says, looking around quickly to see if anyone else is in the vicinity.

“Sa- Laura.” Margaery acknowledges with an awkward nod.

“Before you ask, I’m not following you or anything.”

“I didn’t think that.”

“Yeah, but I know you don’t want me around, so don’t bother.”

Margaery does not reply as Sansa hops off the chair and exits the room, not stopping to look back. While Margaery and Sansa have had their share of fights, both trivial and life altering, in the past, this snub feels especially vindictive. Instinctively, she wants to run after her, but she knows that it is counter-intuitive if she wants to keep her distance this time. Margaery crosses her arms, taking a second to calm down, before leaving the room to find Yara. She could really use the cheap beer right now.

She finds Yara by the keg talking to two women. Margaery notices the dynamic between the three immediately. The girl on the left, brown hair and plain feminine clothes, is looking at Yara intently and nodding at everything that she says. The one on the right looks somewhat disinterested, though Yara has placed a hand on her arm. She is wearing a backwards baseball cap and a scowl. If Margaery had to bet, she would guess that Yara will end up sleeping with one, or both, of the women tonight.

“Marg!” Yara waves her over. “Meet my new friends.”

“Hey.” Margaery takes a cup of beer from Yara and takes a long sip. “I’m Margaery.”

“I’ve heard about you.” The plainer girl replies. “My name is Jane and this is Ashley.”

“For fucks sake.” The girl with a baseball cap swears. “My name is Ash.”

“Sorry.” Jane giggles.

Then, Margaery realizes that she knows both of the women. They are not people that she has met in this life, but she knows Jane is Jeyne Poole and Ash is Arya Stark. Jeyne is almost always appears in some form close to Sansa. Arya is less predictable, but Margaery has learned to recognize her scowl. She takes another sip of beer, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“I know who you are.” Jane repeats, putting her hands on her hips.

“What?” Margaery asks. “You can’t possibly…”

“I doubt there are many girls named Margaery who teach English.”

“Yeah, about that.” Yara shrugs apologetically. “Jane is Laura’s roommate.”

“Oh.” Margaery frowns as she tries to hide her reaction to the name. “The one you slept with?”

“Margaery!” Yara gives her a pointed look before trying to make a subtle gesture at Ash, who she clearly is angling to get into bed with.

“Yeah. I know you broke her heart.” Jane says.

“Oh lay off.” Ash adds. “The girl is full of fairytales and shit like that. Someone needs to break her heart.”

“You’re her sister!” Jane replies, indigently.

“All the more reason to want her to grow up.” Ash gives a fake smile.

“Anyhow.” Yara interrupts. “Ash and I were just talking about having a beer pong match. She thinks that she can beat me.”

“Have fun with that.” Margaery smirks.

“Oh, hell no.” Ash laughs. “You’re playing too. The girl who broke my sister’s heart doesn’t get a pass from this. I need to defend her honour or something dumb like that.”

“Please?” Yara turns to beg her.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

Margaery crosses her arms and allows Yara to prod her over toward where a table has been painted messily with circles and lines designating drink locations and boundaries. She knows that she will regret this, but her empty cup and beginnings of a buzz from drinking the first drink a little too quickly after pre-gaming with Yara beforehand on cheap vodka convince her to do it anyway.

“Okay, so…” Yara starts when she comes back over to Margaery from where she was helping Ash set up the cups.

“What?” Margaery’s voice is flat; she can hear the trepidation in Yara’s voice. She knows what comes next is not going to please her.

“Jane has to go home early-“

“So you don’t need me?” Margaery interrupts.

“Not exactly.” Yara laughs uncomfortably.

“Just tell me.” Margaery steals Yara’s full cup as she says this.

“Ash is partnering with someone else… uh, her sister.”

“What.” Margaery spits out the beer in shock. “No.”

“Yeah.” Yara shrugs. “Think of it like… a grudge match or something.”

“Yara, I’m not doing this.”

“Margaery, you have to.”

Before she knows it, Margaery has conceded and is looking right into the determined eyes of Sansa who appears to want to be there as little as she does. Fortunately, Sansa has never been great at throwing games such as this. Her first shot fails miserably. The second is even worse, somehow getting caught in a tree. The third lands, as if by chance, in one of Margaery’s drinks.

“Yes!” She shrieks, just as surprised by this success as anyone else. “Drink!”

Margaery relents and takes the beer down quickly. Sansa seems to have momentarily forgot her ill feelings toward Margaery and this helps her to ease more into the spirit of the game. Margaery takes her throws, landing the first easily and just missing on the second two. Sansa drinks her beer dutifully, but much slower than Margaery. She has to stop for air halfway through the cup.

Yara stands up and takes her turn. She lands the first two, prompting Ash to chug the corresponding cups. She does both in mere seconds before burping proudly. Then, Ash lands all three of hers. Yara bows in respect before drinking all three in a row.

The game continues for some time in a similar way. By the time Yara sinks the last ball in Ash’s beer, the four of them are laughing and teasing each other. Margaery has almost forgotten that, in this life, she is not with Sansa. They gently verbally jab as the other throws and encourage each other to drink. By the time they have finished a third game, Margaery can barely remember why she and Sansa are not talking right now. It just feels so natural.

Later, when the game has dispersed into just drinking and laughing, Sansa sits down next to her on a bench. Yara and Ash are deep in conversation, one that looks to be flirty, not far off.

“Seems like Yara likes her.” Sansa comments.

“Yara likes everyone.”

“Do you think she liked Jane?”

“Enough to sleep with her.” Margaery shrugs.

“Why are people like that?” Sansa asks.

“Like what?”

“Not interested in love or commitment.”

“It’s easier.” Margaery takes a sip of beer. “I mean, I guess.”

“Are you like that?”

“No. Yara has slept with more people in the last year than I have in my lifetime.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

The weight of this comment is lost on Sansa, but it is entirely true. Margaery has slept with others beside Sansa, but very few. None have lit up her insides and made her feel the way that Sansa does. Though casual sex can be fun, there really is something to be said about sleeping with someone you love.

“I’m sorry… by the way.” Sansa looks down into her empty cup.

“For what?”

“Being so crazy?” Sansa laughs awkwardly. “I basically threw myself at you. It was crazy to think I had a chance with you…”

“Oh.” Margaery’s breath catches.

“I just…” Sansa pauses to steady her voice. “When I first saw you, I swore that I had seen you before. Like, in my dreams or something. I know that sounds crazy, but I saw you and everything clicked.”

“That’s not crazy.” Margaery replies, slowly.

“Do you believe in fate?” Sansa asks, looking up at the sky.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“I believe in fate.” Sansa ignores Margaery’s comment, but both are too drunk to care. “I believe people are meant for each other and such. Ash thinks it’s stupid, but I’ve always thought guided toward things and people, like fate wanted me there.”

“Sansa.” Margaery murmurs under her breath, pained by this confession.

“So, sorry if I was weird to you.” Sansa does not notice that Margaery has not called her Laura this time.

“I feel the same.” She says quietly. “I do.”

“Then why did you reject me?”

“I…”

Margaery knows that she should stop the conversation now. Anything she says is a liability and will make things worse. But, Sansa’s earnest confessions and warm hope is something that she finds hard to resist. Before she manages to consciously will herself to stop, her mouth is already giving away too much.

“I love you.”

“What?” Sansa’s eyes open wide.

“Fuck.” Margaery crushes her cup. “I’m a teaching assistant. I can’t be saying shit like that. It doesn’t even make sense. I barely know you, right?”

“Wait.” Sansa calls out as Margaery walks away. “I’m not in your section anymore. You aren’t my teacher.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Margaery yells back. “This is weird. You’re weird. I’m sorry.”

Margaery walks twenty minutes home from the party, not bothering to grab her coat. The night is cold and snow is beginning to fall. In her drunkenness, she switches between anger at herself for telling Sansa that she loved her and a sick happiness at having been so close to her for a brief time.

She tries to text Yara, but she knows that her friend is probably honing in on her target, whether Sansa’s sister or someone else. That whole thing in itself is weird. Asha Greyjoy and Arya Stark. It is not the first time she’s seen versions of them come together intimately, but each time seems like a strange joke.

At home, she falls into bed and is thankful for her drunken state which delivers her quickly into a dreamless sleep.


	11. Margaery VIII: Giving In

“Margaery!”

As Margaery exits the lecture hall into the busy hallway, she notices red hair out of the corner of her eye. Margaery had noticed that Sansa had been one of the first to hand in her final exam over an hour ago. This means that she must have waited for the other students to finish up to catch Margaery.

She acknowledges the girl with a quick wave and speeds up. By the time she has made it into the snowy courtyard, Sansa has rushed forward to follow her. Margaery gulps down impending bile as she thinks about her drunken confessions to Sansa at the party.

“Margaery.” Sansa repeats, walking along side her now.

“Laura.” Margaery consciously wills herself to say the right name. “I’m in a rush.”

“It won’t take long.” She pleads.

“I’m not the teaching assistant for your section anymore.”

“It’s not about the course.”

“Oh.” Margaery’s face falls.

“Wait.”

Sansa puts a hand on Margaery’s arm to stop her. Margaery realizes, a moment too late, that she is looking into Sansa’s eyes, the same ones that she has loved for centuries. She cannot will herself to pull away. Her heart beats faster remembering the numerous times that she lost herself in the ocean blue. Both her best and worst memories are set to a backdrop of these very same eyes.

Before she can pull away, Sansa has moved a hand to her face. The scent of vanilla and the soft feel of skin against hers are intoxicating. She knows that she should pull away now and walk away. Loving Sansa again cannot possibly be worth the cost of the betrayal. She promised herself that, this time, she would not engage. But now, standing here in the snow, she wonders if she can resist Sansa.

Before she can answer her own question, Sansa has pulled her in for a kiss. Any hope that Margaery had about keeping her distance shatters on impact. She notices that the Laura-version of Sansa has taken to wearing strawberry chapstick. It tastes different, but Margaery decides that she likes it. Sansa’s lips are a familiar sensation and she instinctively pulls her closer. Muscle memory takes over as they kiss and though she knows she should pull away, her thoughts cannot break her body’s determination.

When they finally pull away, Sansa looks at her longingly. Margaery stands there for a second, unsure what to do next.

“So.” Sansa shrugs. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah.” Margaery nods.

“I know you don’t want anything to do with me, but these mixed signals are confusing. You say you love me and then ignore me. You kiss me like this but don’t want to be with me…”

“It’s complicated.”

“Because you’re making it complicated.” Sansa places a hand on Margaery’s arm. “What’s really so complicated that doesn’t seem simple when we’re doing this?”

Sansa moves in to kiss her again and Margaery melts. She cannot resist Sansa, she never could. This is the longest that she has made it before giving in, but now she is relenting and her guard is falling.

“I don’t know…” Margaery fumbles though words. “I mean- I- I mean- I want to. I do.”

“Then do it.” Sansa pleads. “Be with me.”

“I…” The inevitability of the situation and the pain in holding out strikes her as silly and she finds herself giving in. “Okay.”

Sansa kisses her again, this time preceded by a little squeal of excitement. This is the beginning of the end, but Margaery is too happy to really pay it the reverence that it deserves.


	12. Margaery IX: Christmas with the Starks

“Come on, Margaery.”

She stands on the doorstep of the Stark residence, holding a bottle of white wine as a peace offering. Sansa will never understand how uncomfortable this is for her. It is one thing to meet a girlfriend’s parents, but an entirely different thing to meet them over and over again in different contexts. She has both been a loved daughter-in-law to them and has been burned at a stake by them, quite literally. The latter being when Sansa had innocently pointed out how little Margaery had aged in the years they were together. The Starks had called her a witch and set fire to her. Though the flame did not kill her, Margaery recalls the scorching pain with a bitter agony.

“Margaery, what are you waiting for?” Ash asks, impatiently, from behind her.

“Sorry.” She murmurs.

Ash moves around her, restless from the two-hour bus ride from the city. Sansa slips a hand in Margaery’s and squeezes lightly as a show of support.

“Come on.” She whispers, unable to hide her excitement.

Margaery has never been one to thrive in the winter. She has always felt herself wither in the cold, but Sansa’s unwavering light has always kept her satiated through the dark nights. Christmas is a series of traditions that mean little to Margaery. _What good are holidays when you have no one to share them with?_ However, Sansa loves Christmastime above all else. Reminding herself of this, she takes the step forward into the Stark residence.

“Laura!”

A small boy, no more than eight, barrels down the hall and leaps at Sansa. He takes her off-guard and the two tumble to the ground, in laughter. Margaery cannot help but smile at this, Sansa has not looked so happy in this lifetime as she does here. This must be the reincarnated version of her youngest brother, Rickon.

“Riley! Let your sister take her shoes off first.”

Margaery can recognize the tired yet kind face of Sansa’s mother, Catelyn Stark, as she appears in the hallway. She wears a light green apron and holds a spatula in her hand, still wet with some kind of batter.

“Mrs. Stark.” Margaery addresses her with a quick nod.

“You must be Margaery. It’s very nice to meet you. Laura has told us a lot about you.”

Catelyn walks over and puts a hand on Margaery’s shoulder before giving her a gentle squeeze. Sansa’s mother has always been like this, affectionate but in a controlled way. Margaery has missed this. The Starks have always had love and a seat at their table to spare.

After acknowledging Margaery, Catelyn moves to greet her daughter. She puts a hand to the girl’s face and smiles warmly.

“Laura. You are lovelier than ever.”

“I missed you, mom.”

“I missed you too, my sweet child.”

Sansa pulls her mother into a tight embrace. Catelyn skillfully, in the way that one with five children can, maneuvers the dripping spatula to avoid making a mess as she hugs her tightly.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it back for Thanksgiving.” Sansa’s face falls.

“I know.” Catelyn releases Sansa so that she can look her in the eyes. “You know that Riley refused to eat the lemon cakes because he told us that it wasn’t right to eat them without you?”

“Really?” Sansa laughs. “Riley refused sweets for me?”

The little boy nods shyly at this. Though he was full of energy when he tackled her, he is more modest at the mention of the sacrifice he made for his sister. Sansa’s face erupts into an even bigger smile as she gathers her brother into a tight hug. He giggles at this.

“Where’s father?” Ash pops her head around the corner with some kind of food hanging out of her mouth.

“Come here, Ashley.” Catelyn sighs. “You can at least give me a hug before eating my food and demanding to know where your father is.”

“Mom, I go by Ash now.” She rolls her eyes. “And you know that I get grumpy if I don’t eat, like, all the time. You know you were next.”

“Oh, child.” Catelyn laughs. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know.” Ash rolls her eyes. “Maybe tell me where my father is?”

Before Catelyn can answer, the door opens. There are three men on the doorstep.

“Father!” Ash yells, running wildly at the first man.

Though his face suggests that this has taken him by surprise, he adapts quickly to lift his daughter up in a large bear hug. Margaery smiles fondly as she remembers the Sansa of her youth telling stories of her family. Arya was always her father’s favourite while Sansa felt closer to her mother.

After Ned drops his other daughter back to the ground. He moves to pull Sansa into a hug. This embrace, though warm, is more restrained than the one with Ash. When he releases her, he looks to Margaery. Though Sansa has slipped a hand in hers for support, she feels out of place. The Starks have always been that one family that exudes unconditional love that speaks loud enough to fill the room.

“Mr. Stark.” Margaery extends a hand politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He glances at her, briefly, before nodding in acknowledgement. Though Margaery has only met Ned a handful of times in her interactions with the various versions of Sansa, she feels as though she knows him well enough to interpret this gesture as friendly.

“Sisters!” The young man behind Ned calls out before pulling both Ash and Sansa into a tight hug. Margaery recognizes his messy black hair and friendly eyes as being attributes of Robb Stark, Sansa’s eldest brother.

When Robb releases them, Sansa gives a friendly wave to the other young man who smiles kindly at her before nodding at Catelyn. He then puts his arm around Robb affectionately. Margaery resists the urge to raise an eyebrow at this. Theon Greyjoy and Robb Stark? That is a new development, though not one that surprises her.

“And who is this?” He asks with a sly smile. “Could this be Laura's new lover?”

“Knock it off, Theo.” Robb elbows him in the side as he says this. “Nice to meet you… sorry, what was your name?”

“Oh. Margaery.”

Margaery pauses, suddenly realizing that, in this life, Sansa and her have only been together for three weeks. The Stark family has likely heard very little about her. This thought makes her more uncomfortable, but she works to keep her most convincing smile pasted on her face.

“Nice to meet you.” Robb replies.

“And, if you hurt our little Laura…” Theo taps the butt of a rifle slung across his back with a cheeky smile.

“Theo!” Sansa’s face has gone almost as red as her hair. “Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”

 

“Come on now, children.” Ned places his own gun on a rack. “Let’s not scare off our guest.”

“I’m a guest too.” Theo smirks.

The Stark family erupts into collective laughter at this. Margaery wants to join to alleviate the discomfort she feels, but holds her tongue. This is an inside joke that she is not privy to.

“You went hunting without me?” Ash injects. “I hate you all.”

“No you don’t.” Robb laughs as he pats her on the head. “Is John coming for dinner?”

“Your step-brother is spending Christmas in Canada with his friend Sam.” Catelyn replies, icily.

“That’s gay.” Theo contributes.

“Theo.” Sansa pulls her hand from Margaery, balling it into a fist by her side. “Don’t use gay as an insult. Are you trying to make Margaery think we’re awful?”

“He didn’t mean it that way.” Robb says quickly.

“Wasn’t an insult. Don’t be so touchy, Laura.” Theo adds. “And, I mean, John spending the holidays with a man up in a country so damn cold that they’ll have to cuddle? That’s pretty gay.”

“Almost as gay as you.” Robb nudges him.

“I’m sorry.” Sansa whispers to Margaery.

In lieu of a response, Margaery squeezes her hand. Catelyn then leads her to the kitchen so that she can open the bottle of the wine that she brought. Only Sansa and Catelyn elect to partake in the beverage with her. The others, save for Riley, elect to try some of the craft beer that Robb has brought over.

“How old are you, anyway?” Catelyn Stark asks, raising an eyebrow at her daughter’s new paramour across the kitchen counter.

“Uh… Twenty-four.”

It takes Margaery a second to recall what birthdate she chose when enrolling in school this time around. This conscious effort to recall also triggers the feeling of unease regarding Sansa and the inevitable betrayal. She had almost let herself get lost in the festivities.

“And you’re studying English like Laura?”

“I’m a graduate student in English.” Margaery replies.

“She was my TA for awhile.” Sansa adds.

“Is that appropriate?” Catelyn asks, with a concerned frown.

“Mom!” Sansa raises a hand to her face. “Please don’t ask that.”

“It’s a fair question.” Margaery replies. “We weren’t dating while I was her TA.”

“I see.” Catelyn does not seem satisfied with the answer. “As long as you make my daughter happy, I suppose it’s alright.”

“Thanks, mom.” Sansa rolls her eyes.

As the Starks, Theo, and Margaery head into the dimly lit dining room to take seats around the large table set with a red cover and a series of candles atop, Margaery realizes that there is something missing from the scene. Among the smiling faces and laughter, there is one voice that Margaery has come to expect from the Starks.

The combination of the glittering lights on the Christmas tree in the corner of the room and the candles across the table is not enough collectively to cast light on the walls, though Margaery tries to make out the faces in the pictures on the mantle. _Where is Bran?_

Before she can think of a socially appropriate and sensitive way to ask, her question is answered. Ned Stark bows his head and the rest of the family follows suit. With one eye half open, Margaery watches him begin to say grace. In this, he thanks the powers that be for the health and vitality of his family. He gives thanks for Sam, Margaery, and Theo- the ones looking out for his children. He sends warm thoughts to John. Catelyn flinches at the mention of him but remains silent. Then, Ned expresses the collective grief of the family for the loss of Brandon. The waters took him too early, he says. Margaery hears his voice waver at this. A single tear rolls down Catelyn’s face. Ash digs her fork into the table in a distraught motion. Margaery slips her hand into Sansa’s and squeezes gently. Little breaks her heart more than seeing Sansa’s pain when the Stark family is involved.

When Ned is finished, everyone raises their heads and commences doling out portions of turkey and other homemade dishes. The thought of Bran lingers in Margaery’s head though. She can see the sadness in Sansa’s eyes following the reminder of what she has lost. _I know too well what it’s like to lose a sibling_ , Margaery thinks before mentally voicing a prayer to the seven in memory of Loras.

As she drinks more wine, the thought of Loras grows in her mind. His memory loams in her consciousness, as if to remind her of the pain and betrayal. Margaery has to work to not look too long into Sansa’s eyes. It physically hurts her to see the pain Sansa feels about Bran knowing what she did to Margaery’s own dear brother. That betrayal was what started it all.

Margaery distracts herself by talking about gardening with Catelyn and then about California with Theo who also hails from the more southern state. This time around, Margaery has invented a backstory of growing up just outside of LA. Theo is from San Francisco. They laugh about the rain in Washington and she asks, politely, how he met Robb. He tells her how they have known each other for almost all their lives since Theo moved north almost a decade ago.

When the dinner is done, Ash and Riley run off to fire up the game console in front of the TV. Robb and Theo join them. Sansa is excitedly talking to Ned about her courses. Margaery decides to help Catelyn clear the dishes.

“I haven’t seen Laura this happy in a long time.” Catelyn finally says when they reach the kitchen.

Margaery does not reply as she carefully stacks the dishes by the dishwasher. Catelyn puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Margaery. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making Laura smile.” Catelyn’s voice wavers. “She had been out with friends instead of at the beach with us… that day. She blamed herself for not being there to save him. We all grieve for him, but it hit her the hardest.”

“Oh.” Margaery nods uncomfortably. “I didn’t know.”

“She doesn’t like talking about it.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Margaery finally replies before leaving the room to grab another stack of dishes.

The rest of the visit goes by quickly. Catelyn takes Margaery and Sansa to the nearby mall to partake in boxing day deals and the family goes ice skating the following day. Robb and Theon are the first to leave, anxious to get back to their apartment in Portland where their loyal dog awaits them. Ash makes a joke about Robb just wanting to leave now that the craft beer is gone. Soon enough, it is New Years Eve and Margaery, Sansa, and Ash are standing at the bus bay waiting for transit back to Seattle.

Margaery has taken care to avoid spending too long alone with Sansa during the visit. The memory of Loras still weighs heavily on her mind. It was easy to do this at the Stark residence with people everywhere and always something to distract herself with. The bus ride does not promise this luxury. Ash, as if on purpose, falls asleep almost as soon as her head touches the headrest on the seat.

The next two hours are incredibly long. Sansa tries to make conversation and affectionate contact with Margaery, but she rebuffs the attempts. Margaery knows that Sansa is aware that something is wrong. The air between them even tastes wrong. She finally puts in her headphones and closes her eyes, trying to will Sansa away.

When they arrive in Seattle, Ash hops immediately into a taxi after giving her sister a quick hug. Margaery checks the clock _11:37PM. It’s almost midnight_ , she thinks. _It’s almost another damn year._

“Margaery?” Sansa’s voice is tiny in the dark night. “Is everything okay?”

It is now that all of Margaery’s resolve crumbles. Suddenly, her decision not to worry about the inevitable betrayal seems painfully juvenile. Why is she throwing away a perfectly good life yet again? The thought of Sansa mourning her brother makes Margaery’s stomach churn. She hates that she is holding such a terrible thing against her girlfriend, but it evokes the image of Loras. _Loras was my brother._

Breathing feels near impossible and Margaery feels her heart rushing all too fast. She bites her lip, trying to keep her thoughts from spilling free. Sansa’s hand reaches for hers and she feels claustrophobic. Margaery looks around in a state of frenzy, she cannot do this for a second longer. Sansa and the curse have ensnared her in this miserable existence. She needs to break free.

“I can’t do this.” Margaery finally admits. “I’m so sorry. I thought that I could do this, but I can’t.”

“Why?” Sansa asks, sorrow heavy in her voice. “You just met my family though.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t do this.” Sansa pleads.

“I’m sorry, Sansa.” Margaery frowns. “I really am. I really wanted to be with you. I was almost happy again.”

“Laura.” She crosses her arms. “My name is Laura.”

“I know.”

“Margaery, don’t do this. Please. Give me another chance.”

“It’s not you.” Margaery replies. “Well, maybe it is you. But it’s me too. And it’s… it’s just complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

“So, try me.”

“I can’t.”

“So you’re just going to give up on this then?” Sansa’s voice is growing louder. “You come into my life and make me happy. You make my family love you. Then, on New Years Eve you break my heart?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough. Don’t do this.”

“I have to.” Margaery feels tears forming in both eyes. “Goodbye.”

The last thing she hears is Sansa yelling her name as she turns to walk away. Stepping into the street, she realizes dejectedly that she has forgotten to bring an umbrella. The thought is knocked from her consciousness as a car slams into her. Sansa yelling out serenades Margaery as she fades into darkness.


	13. Margaery X: Breaking

When Margaery opens her eyes, she feels strangely light. It is an ethereal feeling and she tries to recall what came before. There is blurry warmth to the world that she cannot recall feeling previously. Then, she recalls the rainy scene with Sansa and her piercing screaming before seeing the car. There is no doubt in Margaery’s mind that it must have hit her.

_Is this heaven then?_

“Margaery.” Sansa whispers. “Margaery. Please. Don’t leave me.”

“I- I- La-“ Her tongue fumbles across the sounds.

She hears a sharp crunch as a car speeds by, splashing them with moisture from a puddle. Margaery is able to see the remnants of the bracelet she once gave Sansa on the dark road. As it shatters, she feels something move deep in her like a cold dark pressure on her chest lifting.

“Laura.” Margaery murmurs. “My bracelet.”

“Oh no.” Sansa frowns. “You must have hit your head. It’s Sansa.”

“Sansa?” Margaery manages. “It’s really you?”

“Of course.”

“You remember me?”

“I could never forget you, Margaery.” Sansa sighs. “I’ve been here for centuries, dormant behind the other versions of me.”

“Sansa.” Margaery speaks slowly. “I’m…”

“No.” Sansa commands. “Don’t speak. I’m sorry for everything and… I forgive you for the poison.”

Margaery feels Sansa pull her tighter into an embrace. She feels her guard crumbling down. After years of knowing faux-Sansas, it is amazing to be held by the real one. She strokes her hair in the same way that she did back in Westeros. It is as though a missing part of her heart has been returned. If she died now, it would all be worth it for these few moments with the real Sansa. Then, Margaery hears the sound of someone yelling “happy new year” into the night. It must be midnight. _A new year._

“It seems the only real damage to you is this grey hair.” Sansa says when she pulls away.

“What?” Margaery laughs, first out of confusion and then in happy realization. _I’m aging_ , she thinks. _We broke the curse._

She kisses Sansa then, passionately and without trepidation, like she has wanted to since the day she met her.

“Where do we go from here?” Margaery asks as she tries to stand.

“The hospital.” Sansa replies. “Then back to your apartment for wine and a bubble bath.”


End file.
